


The Couple Who Kills Together

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [33]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, BAMF Betty, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Fighting, Flirting, Violence, bamf jughead, bughead - Freeform, disguises, preslash, spy AU, spy archie, spy betty, spy jughead, spys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Betty and Jughead are ass-kicking spies.





	The Couple Who Kills Together

**Author's Note:**

> Because I absolutely adore "Knight and Day" with Cruise and Diaz and you should watch it right now!
> 
> Enjoy!

He was lying on his side, back against the sofa and front pressed flush to Betty's spine. His left arm was tucked under his head and his right arm was snaked around her waist. His knees bent perfectly into the crook of hers. Betty's left hand was pressed under her cheek, and her right hand toyed with his fingers on her stomach. They breathed in unison, and _Matilda_ played quietly on the tv set. 

He reached down to kiss the back of her neck. "My arm is so sore," he sighed, and she giggled into the fire lit air. 

"You really should stretch." She beamed, pushing further into his warmth. "We do lead a rather active lifestyle." 

...

...

...

"Well maybe," Betty hissed, jamming the knife into Valdak's torso, "if you put stuff back where they belonged, this wouldn't happen." 

Jughead threw her a disbelieving look across the balcony; momentarily distracted. He regained focus as Dimitri picked up the gun, and managed a long, steely kick into his throat. He winced at the squish of the crushed windpipe and wiped his shoe against the tiles as Dimitri fell to the ground. "Oh yeah," he drawled sarcastically, regaining his breath as he picked up the gun and fired three rounds into the bodyguard's chest. "This is  _my_ fault. If I remember, Betts, you're the one who bought the shoe rack and you know something, you never put your shoes on it. Every day, every day I trip on a pair of heels." He tossed her the gun and she fired four bullets over the ledge. 

She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder in exhaustion; straightening, she turned to look at her husband. Silence rained down over them, bodies strewn over the floor of the balcony between them. "For the last time," she warned, waggling the gun between her dainty fingers, "I'm not the one who bought the shoe rack. It was a gift from  _your_ dad. Duck." 

Jughead threw himself to the ground as she unloaded the remainder of the chamber into the final assassin behind him. 

"And I do not just throw my shoes around. If anyone owns too much it's you. How many 's' shirts do you need? I have no wardrobe space." With a humf, she threw the gun over the wall into the shrubbery and helped him up. "You okay?" 

He grinned up into her blue eyes and nodded. Blood trickled down his temple, and she had a split lip. He cupped her cheek. "Yeah. But it would have been a lot easier if my grenade kit was where I left it." 

She shoved him exasperatedly. "For the last time, Juggie!" 

...

...

...

Jughead scowled, picking up the champagne glass and downing it. "Does she have to be so keen?" He hissed into the ear piece, and Archie's amused chuckle filtered through. 

_"She has to get the target alone, Jug. If I didn't know better I'd say you sound jealous."_

The dark haired agent frowned harder and picked up another glass. "I am not jealous." He murmured vehemently, barley moving his lips as he staked out the ballroom. Amid all the swirling silk and elegance, his eyes caught on Betty. The sleek black wig and the distractingly figure-hugging tight black dress. It made her skin look moonlit against the dim lights, and he seethed at the way her body curled around the target. 

_"You sound pretty jealous. You should probably just ask her out."_

"You know, Archie," Jughead grumbled into his hand, "maybe we should stick to the mission at hand." He swiped his fingers through his hair and fidgeted in the expensive black suit he was wearing. He felt out of place in the starch white collar, and longed for his tattered suspenders with a secret holster. 

_"We've got movement. Betty's taking him to the next room, prepare for backup."_

Jughead swivelled to see, and his eyes locked with brilliant sapphire. The red lipstick was stark and dangerous, and she nodded discretely at him. He set down his glass and followed slowly. 

...

...

...

Betty, even through the pounding headache and sweltering heat, could recognise how attractive Jughead Jones was.

Even now, bound up in a chair, black tape over his mouth and blood clumping his hair to his forehead, he was a vision of beauty and strength. His muscles flexed taught, his slender arms sinewy and ready. His head hung forward, but he was slowly starting to come to awareness. Betty tested her bindings again, and found a little bit of slack. She watched as Theodora paced the cell and worked her sore jaw slowly. 

Jughead made a small sound of awareness, and Theodora whipped around, stalking over to him happily. "See, Betty! I knew he'd wake up eventually," she cheered, fisting her fingers into his thick black locks and tugging his head back harshly. The long pale expanse of his neck was made bare and she smirked. "You picked a handsome one, Betty. I'll give you props for that."

She worked steadfastly on the knots behind her, and watched as Jughead blinked into reality. He made a muffled noise and struggled a little, taking in Betty's identical position opposite him. Except she didn't have the tape over her mouth. "You don't have to hurt him." Betty murmured, blowing the blonde hair out of her face. "I'll give you what you want, Dora. Leave him." 

Jughead let out a muffled yelp when the cold bite of the blade found his neck, and struggled hard in his ties. "I'm sure you will," she cooed, pressing the steel in harder. A bright burst of red started ebbing to the surface. "But I figure I owe you this." She turned her attention to Jughead, and Betty used the opportunity to work her thumb into the loop of the rope. "You see darling, your girlfriend Betty here killed my fiancee. She deserves to know that pain." She shook her hand a little and Jughead strained away from the pain with a whimper. 

The sound went straight to Betty's heart, and she hurried to get her nail through the frays. "Your fiancee was a drug lord, Dora." She panted, "there was really nothing I could do about it."

Jughead was squirming hard now; writhing against the binds and making muffled shouts into the tape. The cruelty worked, and Theodora's eyes snapped to Betty at the blatant disregard of her lover's life. She brandished the knife and took a step away from Jughead who drew in ragged breaths of relief, blood still trickling down his neck. Betty got one hand free and waited a beat, before launching out of the chair. 

Her fist collided with Theodora's face and the dark skinned woman slammed into the bookcase; slumping to the floor. Betty hurried to Jughead and with the knife, sliced him free of his bondage and tore the tape off his mouth. His lips were reddened and chapped and he gaped like a fish for a few minutes. "Thanks," he gasped, "but she's gonna get up."

Betty whirled around with her leg out, and kicked Theodora in the face with a resounding whack so she collapsed onto the ground. "Stay away from my man." She whispered, kicking her again for good measure. She rubbed at her raw wrists and relaxed into Jughead's arm around her waist. 

"Your man, huh?" He murmured, "we've only had three dates." 

She snorted, resting her head on his shoulder as they stared down at the unconscious body. "I'm not scaring you, am I?" 

He kissed her forehead. "You wish." 

...

...

...

He was lying on his side, back against the sofa and front pressed flush to Betty's spine. His left arm was tucked under his head and his right arm was snaked around her waist. His knees bent perfectly into the crook of hers. Betty's left hand was pressed under her cheek, and her right hand toyed with his fingers on her stomach. They breathed in unison, and _Matilda_ played quietly on the tv set. 

He reached down to kiss the back of her neck. "My arm is so sore," he sighed, and she giggled into the fire lit air. 

"You really should stretch." She beamed, pushing further into his warmth. "We do lead a rather active lifestyle." 

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it, I'd love to flesh out this verse? Lemmie know!
> 
> Leave a prompt/comment/declaration of love on the way out! 
> 
> MWAH MWAH


End file.
